


This Stolen Life

by mistyautumn



Series: Socks [2]
Category: Defiance (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyautumn/pseuds/mistyautumn
Summary: Alak and Christie live their best moments in stolen ones.
Relationships: Christie McCawley/Alak Tarr
Series: Socks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849738
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	This Stolen Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WinterSky101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSky101/gifts).



> The story of the [socks](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411228). I hope it doesn’t disappoint! This may become a collection in the future.

Alak loves days like these; it’s warm and breezy in the dappled shade of the McCawley yard, he’s got a good record playing, and Quentin and Mr. McCawley are at the mines. In stolen moments like these, he and Christie have a life of their own, away from the machinations and expectations of their families. _Thank Rayetso._

He watches Christie from his spot on the porch steps and smiles thinly, even though he doesn’t entirely understand why she’s using the time to do laundry.

“Do you not trust Jalina with your stuff?”

“What?” Christie looks to him and shakes her head. “No, it’s not that- I just- I like doing laundry. I can see your face, don’t look at me like that.” She laughs. “I like folding. It’s therapeutic. I always used to help Bertie.”

“Therapeutic.” Alak says skeptically.

“Yeah, kind of. I can just do it, and my mind wanders. It’s nice.” She grins, and gets a bunch of socks from the line, approaching Alak and dropping them in his lap. “Here, ball those up.”

“What?” Alak looks at Christie, then at the heap of socks, then at Christie again.

“Try it, you’ll see.” She sits beside him and nudges him lightly. “You get into a rhythm.”

“Uh-huh…” Alak answers non-committally. “And how does that work…?” He squeezes the socks together in a lumpy sort of ball. There is no rhythm. He looks at Christie and as the seconds draw out he watches her expression change to something that seems torn; somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

“You’re kidding.” She rolls her eyes and heaves a long-suffering sigh that sounds _mostly_ playful, then picks two matching socks from the pile, lining them up and folding the tops down so they form a soft ball. “Just like that.” Then she bounces the ball lightly off his forehead.

For a moment he’s embarrassed, but in the next his instinct is _defensive_. Christie seems to sense it; reaches out and smooths his hair, her warmth soothing the spark. “ _It’s ok._ ” She says the words in Casti, then switches back to English, conceding: “I guess Datak Tarr wouldn’t approve of his son doing house work. Beneath your liro, right?”

She’s definitely not wrong.

“So it’s like this?” He finds two matching socks and does just like Christie. One pair, two, then a third.

“ _You’ve got it._ ” She smiles. He loves the sound of his language in her voice, even when her pronunciation is clumsy or her grammar is nearly nonsense. She’s learning.

 _He’s_ learning.

They can sort it out together.

“You’re right, you can get a rhythm.”

She bounces another ball off his head and grins, laughing as she runs to shelter behind a hanging pair of pants. Giving chase, he catches her in his arms, lifting her off the ground and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

“ _My wife’s a little feisty._ ”

“ _That’s why you like her!_ ” She squirms; he knows where she’s ticklish. “ _Go fold more socks, it’ll drive your father crazy._ ”

“ _You know what I like,_ ” He laughs, then leans in. “ _but your speaking my language is driving **me** crazy._” He murmurs in her ear.

“ _In a good way?_ ”

“ _Oh, in the best way._ ”

She wriggles around so she can face him, her arms sliding around his neck as their lips meet.

“ _My husband honors me greatly with his new folding skills._ ”

Alak grins, slowly setting her down.

“ _I’ve got a patient teacher. Also very sexy._ ”

“Trying to make me jealous?” Switching back to English, her tone is playful, her dark eyes dancing.

“Maybe just a little.” He smirks.

Her lips find his again and for a moment all the world is perfect. They hold each other and they are _happy_ in this stolen life of their own.


End file.
